


Mutually Assured Pleasure

by mariachiMushroom



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Coercion, Dark!Dipper, Don't Try This At Home, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Underage Prostitution, coercive relationships between an amoral demon and a kid, orgasmium, the first one's free, this is what passes for billdip for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariachiMushroom/pseuds/mariachiMushroom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill addicts Dipper to a magical drug and then forces him to do increasingly abhorrent and dangerous tasks to get his fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First One's Free

There were times when Bill Cipher regretted being a being of pure energy with no weaknesses. For as much as he heaped disdain on the primitive peoples of the matter dimension, they still had some awfully useful magic. But to draw on it required manipulating physical objects, a skill which Bill was sadly lacking. He could always possess some schmuck, but there was only so much tottering around in a primitive flesh body he could take before stabbing his own eyes or disemboweling himself out of frustration.

Fortunately, he knew just who to turn to. Pine Tree had proven himself quite a capable paranormal investigator, able and willing to go to any lengths to solve the mystery of the day. All he needed was the right “encouragement” and he would be begging to work for Bill.

Bill floated through the Mystery Shack, careful to avoid the residual warding sigils that Six Fingers had left so many years ago. He scanned through the walls with his x-ray vision, searching for Pine Tree. He finally found him in the room which used to belong to Six Fingers, hunched on his knees over some magazine. As Bill floated through the wall, he saw that the boy had his fingers wrapped around his reproductive organ, stimulating it in a facsimile of sexual intercourse. In front of him rested a water-stained magazine featuring females of the human species cavorting in angles that just so happened to display their prominent mammary glands.

It looked like Bill was coming in at just the right part. Pine Tree's hand stroked faster and faster, his face contorted in concentration, his breath puffing in little pants. Bill floated right in front of his face, waiting for the boy to notice him. Any moment now.

“Oh god, oh-ahh!” Pine Tree opened his eyes to sneak one last peak at the model's tits and came face to face with Bill's staring eye. He staggered backwards, but it was too late to salvage his impending orgasm. Salty liquid squirted out of the boy's sex organ, some of which spattered on Bill's triangular body.

“Of all the times—couldn't you knock!” The boy hastily tucked himself into his shorts, cringing as the wet genetic material soaked into the cloth.

“Manual simulation, huh. Such a quaint way of pleasuring yourself.”

“Uhh, well, I'd like to see you try to do better! You don't even have a dick. Well, I don't think you have one.” Bill leered as well as he could with one eye. “On second thought, I'm going to shut up now. There are some things that even I don't want to know.” Dipper used his shirt to wipe off Bill's body.

“Well,” drawled Bill. “I do feel a little bad about ruining the closest brush you'll ever have with Heaven.”

“I doubt it,” the boy snarked.

“I'll make it up to you,” continued Bill, as if he hadn't heard Pine Tree's comment at all. The dream demon floated up high, well out of the splash zone, and then opened a small portal, out of which oozed a meniscus of viscous golden liquid. As soon as a drop the size of a pea was extruded into the human world, Bill closed the portal, letting fall a drop of pure Orgasmium onto Pine Tree's head.

“Huh—ahh. Oh.” The boy blinked in confusion until the drug penetrated into his brain. And then he collapsed limply to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. Bill floated closer to examine the effect the drug, well, more like toxic waste, was having on the human child. The boy's eyes were open, but he was clearly not focusing on anything real. His limbs jerked mindlessly as Pine Tree's brain was simulated to the most intense pleasure any being could ever feel. A dark patch bloomed at the front of the boy's shorts as his nerves interpreted the bit of pure pleasure as a perpetual orgasm. Or maybe it was just urine. Not having a nose, Bill couldn't really tell the difference.

After what had been only a few minutes for Bill, but a subjective eternity for the human child, Pine Tree's eyes focused. He took a shaky breath and sat up.

“What was that?” the kid asked, voice cracking at the vowels.

“Just a little dollop from a dimension of pure joy!” That was forbidden for any portal-producing being to enter, open, or transport matter out of by decree of the Interdimensional Council, Bill failed to mention. The boy swallowed and took a deep breath. Bill eagerly awaited his response.

“Can I have some more?”

“Well, I don't know, it is Class Omega contraband—”

“Please!” The boy was giving him the watery, wide-eyed look humans had a tendency to do when they wanted something from Bill, usually to stop torturing their friends. “I'll do anything!” Ahaha, that was what Bill liked to hear!

“Okay, Pine Tree, stop twisting my leg.” The boy abruptly let go of Bill's black limb. “I'll let you have some more.” The boy's pleading look gave way to beatific anticipation. “If you give me the journal.”

“No way!” The boy clutched the beaten book to his chest.

“Welp, if that's the way you're going to be, then I guess there's no point in me sticking around.” Bill slowly floated away, as if to leave.

“Wait, don't go!” With shaking hands, Pine Tree pulled out the journal from his inner vest pocket. “Just promise me you won't destroy it.”

“It's a deal.” Bill reached out his hand and the kid shook it immediately. The dream demon picked up the journal and rifled through the pages, as the boy bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation. Ho hum. He already knew all of the lore inside, although there were some new combinations of magical sigils which were worth digesting. Bill finished committing the pages to his photographic memory, then flicked a spark of blue flame onto the very flammable cover.

“No!” cried Pine Tree as the demon casually dropped the burning book. “Why did you do that! We just made a deal!”

“I didn't destroy anything. The information is all in here.” Bill tapped the top of his triangle. “In fact, it's even better preserved than before!” Pine Tree tried desperately to put out the magical flame, even going so far as to try to smother the fire with his body, but once Bill's flames burnt with intent, they would never go out. All his efforts to save the book just made it crumble faster. A hoarse sob left the boy's mouth as he cradled the ashes, much as one would cradle a dead body.

“Aww, don't be so sad. Here, have some Orgasmium. Because you're worth it.” Bill opened the portal again and let a glob of yellow goo fall out. Pine Tree was not so far gone in his grief as to keep from catching the glob as it fell down. “Don't use it all in one place!” The boy buried his face in his palms, smearing the yellow goo all around. Then he collapsed to the ground again, dead to the world.

Bill grew an extra arm just to pat himself on the back. Job well done. When Pine Tree woke up, he would find a list of ingredients that Bill needed fetching.

And the payment?

The payment would be in “kindness.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of Orgasmium comes from here: http://wiki.lesswrong.com/wiki/Orgasmium. 
> 
> This story gon' be dark as fuck, just saying. But with a first chapter like this, you should expect that, right?


	2. Fairy Tale

“Dipper! Go take out the trash. And take out the raccoon that's been digging around in there too,” bellowed Grunkle Stan as he walked out of the kitchen, dressed up for another day of parting fools from their cash. Mabel glanced over at her brother, who was currently lolling his head in his arms. A stack of untouched Stan-cakes stood in front of him.

“Hey bro-collini, are you all right?” Her brother had been acting really weird these past couple of days. He would sneak off into the woods, without even inviting her, and come back covered in scratches and poison ivy, stumbling around with a dopey grin on his face. Maybe he found a secret monster girlfriend? Like a spider, or a naga.

Dipper groaned, and picked up his head like it was made of lead. His pupils were dilated so large, Mabel could barely make out the ring of brown iris around them.

“Yeah, Mabel, I'm just fine,” Dipper warbled. A visible shudder ran up his spine, and he dropped his head back on to the table, clawing at the wood surface with ink-stained hands. “Just peachy.” Wow. He really needed to go easier on the paranoid midnight scribbling.

“Umm, maybe you should take it easy. I'll get the trash.” Mabel hoisted up the bag on her back, like a reverse Santa Clause, and slipped a bedazzled collar around the raccoon's neck. “Come on, Freddy, let's get you outside before Grunkle Stan decides to throw a shoe at you again.”

Mabel staggered outside under the load. Wow, this trash bag was heavy! Dip-dop must have been getting a serious workout from all the chores Grunkle Stan made him do. Well, now it was her turn to reap the benefits. Alpha twin powers, activate! With a huff of exertion, Mabel heaved the bag over the top of the garbage bin, where it fell to the bottom with a satisfying thump. She clapped her hands at a job well done.

Gompers was the only audience to her feat of strength, the raccoon having run off as soon as she let go of the leash. The goat wasn't even paying attention to her, instead gumming something in his mouth. Mabel would have paid him no mind if it weren't for the tiny hand reaching out of the goat's lip.

“Gompers, spit that out!” Mabel walked right up to the goat and pried open its mouth. Inside was a bedraggled little person, leaf clothing slick with saliva and blue liquid. “What have we here?” Mabel peeled the doll-like figure from the goat's tongue and examined it more closely.

The creature appeared to be a little person with the joints and armor plating of an insect. As Mabel held the pixie in her hand, she could feel its fluttery heartbeat, like a bird. The fairy was wearing a little dress made of stitched leaves. She must have been a really good seamstress to pull that off. Mabel had once tried making leaf clothing, inspired by her Hebrew school's bible reading, but the results had turned out rather indecent. Also, the synagogue had switched to plastic plants after that incident.

Mabel flipped over the fairy with her finger to figure out how the dress was fastened. What she saw pushed all thoughts of clothing design out of her mind. On the fairy's back were two bloody stumps where a cruel person had pulled out the fairy's wings. Blue blood oozed out of the wound, covering Mabel's hands. That explained why Gompers had been sucking on the poor bedraggled fairy. The goat must have craved the minerals in the pixie's blue blood.

“Sweet Moses, what kind of monster did this to you?” The fairy stirred weakly, but didn't speak. “I'm going to help you. Hold on while I bring you inside.” Mabel cradled the the injured sprite in her hands and rushed inside.

“Dipper! I found an injured child of nature that needs our help!” She lay the bleeding fairy on the kitchen table and went for the first aid kit in the kitchen cabinet. As she pulled out the gauze and antibacterial gel, she heard a piercing scream from the table. The girl whipped her head around to see the injured pixie crawling away from her brother, while he stared in mute horror.

“I have no idea how it managed to survive so long, I mean, after someone hurt it so badly,” Dipper stammered, while Mabel was hit with a dawning realization. She looked at the bluish blood on her hand, and the stains on her brother's fingertips.

They were the same color.

“What did you do to her, Dipper!”

“What do you mean, why are you blaming me? You don't have any proof.” Mabel grabbed his hands before he could pull them away.

“Then explain this!” She pointed his own stained finger at him.

“All right, I did it! I took the wings. Do you know how valuable they are? Besides, it's not like fairys are sentient or anything. They can't even talk.”

“That shouldn't count for anything. Why, bro-bro? Why did you do it? Is magic more important to you than basic human decency?” This close, Mabel could see the sweat beading on Dipper's forehead. “Answer me!” Mabel slammed her fist on the table.

And heard a wet crunch.

Mabel froze as she realized just what she had smashed. She slowly lifted up her hand, which was splattered with blue blood.

“Fairy? Are you okay?” With a trembling finger, she poked the fairy's crushed body. Miniature guts oozed on the kitchen table.

“I'm a murderer!” wailed Mabel. “A monster!” Tears flooded from her eyes. All she wanted to do was help! The poor creature would have lived longer in Gomper's mouth.

“Mabel, it's okay,” shushed Dipper. He reached over and patted her back, although it was more like he was slumping on her and jerking his arm about. “It was an accident. You're still the same wonderful person you were before.”

“You think so?” Mabel wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Yeah.” Her brother looked downcast at his statement. All of a sudden, he started fumbling around in his shorts pocket. Whatever he did made his eyes unfocus. His face contorted as he tried to keep his expression under control. Mabel got the weird feeling that he was trying to avoid breaking into a grin.

“The moooreee important thing ish, we tell no'one 'bout thish,” he slurred. “Mystery twins pact?” Mabel half-heartedly fist-bumped him with her blood-drenched hand.

“Mystery twins pact.”

That stain was never going to come out of her sweater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I memed in this story. STAY TUNED FOR MORE.


	3. Not Even Once

“So there's this punk band touring in Gravity Falls tonight,” said Wendy, as she reshuffled the boxes on the counter for the fifth time this hour. “Their music is a little too harsh for my taste, but there's going to be an afterparty at Robbie's place. You in?”

“Sure,” said Dipper absentmindedly.

“Dude, what are you on?”

“What?” the boy said in sluggish panic. “I'm not on anything. Except this barrel. Ha.” He laughed weakly.

“Of course you're on something, you've been staring at this jar of eyes for the past hour. Not even Soos is that interested in these creepy things.”

“I accept your challenge!” yelled the handyman from outside.

“Plus, have you looked in a mirror lately? Your pupils are as big as the moon.” Wendy pulled out a pocket mirror and offered it to Dipper. He stared blankly, until his brain realized he should probably pick it up. He jerked his hand at the mirror, accidentally knocking it to the ground.

“Lemme get that.” Dipper slid off the barrel and collapsed into a heap. “Whoops.”

“Yeah, you're definitely on something. Here, let me help you up.” Wendy grabbed the boy's arm and set him on his feet. He gripped the countertop to keep himself upright and avoided her eyes.

“Please don't tell Grunkle Stan.”

“Naw, it's cool. Between you and me, I wouldn't be able to stand this job if I weren't stoned all the time.” She had even found the perfect rooftop balcony to blaze up. “So what is it? You don't smell like booze. Is it acid? Shrooms? Ecstasy?”

“No, it's not any of that. It's magic.” Wendy blew a gust of air into her bangs.

“Of course it's magic if it's your first time.”

“No, I mean it's made of magic. It's a magic drug.”

“Woah! That's hardcore! Can I see?” Dipper reached into his pocket and pulled out a half-filled plastic squeeze bottle shaped like a bear. Inside was a golden honey-like liquid that was also glowing? The boy squeezed a drop of liquid onto his wrist and rubbed it in.

“Uhh, Dipper? Are you sure you're doing it right? Because you usually have to inject stuff like this.”

“I know what I'm doin-ng--” Dipper moaned and slumped forward on the counter. Wendy was glad that the gift shop was empty except for the two of them, because the noises he was making were kind of obscene. Like, really bad. He was panting like a cheap porno, the kind where they found random guys on the street and paid them in sex. Wait, was he humping the barrel?

“Woah there, partner. Gotta keep it G-rated.” With a whine, Dipper pushed his head under Wendy's hand, like a dog looking for affection. Whatever that stuff was, at least it got him over his social anxiety. “That good, huh?” Wendy ran her fingers through Dipper's greasy hair.

“It's too good.”

“Hmm. I'll try anything once.” Wendy reached for the bottle.

“No!” Dipper smacked her hand away. “You can't … you can't start.”

“Well, if you're not going to give me any, at least tell me what it feels like.”

“It feels like … love.”

“Aww, that's so cute. Like your crush on me?” Wendy ribbed.

“No.” Dipper twisted his head so that he was looking up at her. Somehow, he reminded Wendy of the time her father had run over a deer, the animal's eyes glossy and pained until her father had put it out of it's misery.

“It's even better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dipper, control yourself. You're going to scare away the customers.
> 
> As usual, comment if you care.


	4. Don't Take My Sunshine Away

Ding-dong!

“Whatever it is you're selling, I don't want it,” groused the elderly man as he answered the door. They always rang right at the good part of the movie. He'd ask the kids to get the door for him, but Mabel was off at the mall, and Dipper was off doing whatever-he-did. He could use more unpaid labor around here.

“Grunkle Stan?” In front of the door was Dipper, barely upright, his hand clutching his bleeding shoulder. “I think I need to go to the hospital.” A bone spike the size of his forearm was jutting out of his back. Trailing behind the injured boy was a path of blood leading to the forest. The most disturbing thing was that Dipper didn't seem to be in any great pain. In fact, he seemed downright euphoric, with his mouth twisted into a blissful smile.

“Hot sausages, what happened to you kid?” The boy fainted forward into Stan's arms.

“Manticore...” the boy mumbled, “... shoots spikes.” A bloody fang dropped out of his hand and clattered to the ground. Stan picked up Dipper as gently as he could and ran for his car.

“I'm driving to the hospital,” he yelled. “Hold down the fort, Soos!”

“You got it, Mr. Pines.”

Stan lay Dipper in the back of the car and strapped him in as best he could. He didn't dare try to remove the spike himself, lest he remove the only thing that was stoppering his blood. Instead, he drove as fast as he could towards the hospital, wincing every time he hit a pothole that jarred the boy's body in the back. Now he actually had an excuse if he was pulled over by the cops.

Stan crashed his car into the marble fountain in front of the Northwest Medical Center and plowed through the glass-and-steel doors of the lobby, cradling the bleeding boy.

“Where's the emergency room?” he yelled at the receptionist, who was balancing a phone on her shoulder while tapping away at the keyboard.

“I'll call you back, Julie. What seems to be the problem, sir?”

“I've got a kid bleeding to death over here!”

“Mmm hmm. What's your insurance provider?”

“Insurance? I don't have any stinking insurance!”

“Well, I'm sorry, sir, but if you don't have coverage, you're going to have to go to the Community Health Center across the street.” Through the glass windows, Stan saw a squat tan building with peeling stucco and a weed-filled yard. Old Man McGucket burst out of the plywood-paneled door, dancing his manic jig.

“Yessiree, a little bit of duct tape was all I needed on this here broken leg. Now to go back to fighting that bear!” The crazy old coot cackled and limped off into the street.

“I'll pay in cash,” said Stan.

***

Sleeping in the hospital bed, Dipper looked like a kid from one of those commercials featuring implausibly adorable children dying from a cancer that could be cured with applications of cash to the tumor. Stan had spent a restless night at the hospital, waiting for his grand-nephew to get out of surgery. Fortunately, the doctors had assured him that Dipper would have full use of his arm in three months, with the appropriate physical therapy, but there might be some numbness since one of the thoracic nerves had been nicked.

The boy's pupils stirred under his eyelids. Mabel had wanted Stan to wake her up as soon as her brother was awake, but Stan had a few questions he wanted to ask in private. The boy blearily peeled his eyes open.

“Stan?”

“Hey, kid. How ya' feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus. Uhrg.” With his uninjured arm, Dipper patted his thigh. When he realized he was wearing nothing but a hospital gown, his eyes scanned the room in panic. “Where's my stuff?”

“Looking for this?” Stan rifled through the bag he'd received containing all of Dipper's personal effects.

“Yeah. Hand it over.” The boy held out his hand expectantly. Stan crossed his arms.

“First, you're going to tell me what you've been up to. You're a smart kid. What were you thinking, going after a highly dangerous manticore like that?”

“Well, I was just, uhh, just curious after reading about it in the Journal, you know me, curious as a dead cat.” Dipper laughed nervously.

“The Journal, huh?” Stan squeezed the bag, which was full of cloth and some random junk, but no hard, rectangular book. “Where is it, anyway? It's not in your stuff.”

“Oh, ahh, well, I've memorized it all by now, and since it's so valuable, I thought I'd keep it safe at the Shack so I don't accidentally lose it during my adventures.”

“So you're saying that if I called Soos right now and asked him to search your room, he'd find it?”

“No, I mean, it's really well hidden, and it's actually outside in a secret place--”

“You're a terrible liar. What really happened?” Dipper's mouth gaped open a couple of times as he searched for another excuse. Finally he spoke.

“It's gone.”

“Gone where?”

“It was destroyed.”

“By who?” The boy hesitated for a moment and swallowed.

“Bill Cipher.” Anxiety rose in Stan's chest.

“And how did he manage to do that? His hands are tied unless he makes a deal.”

“I traded him,” Dipper said in the barest whisper.

“For what?”

“For … Stan, just give me my stuff!” Dipper's voice cracked as he made his demand. Stan started pulling out items one by one and placing them on the table besides the bed. A handwritten list. A pen. A shirt, stiffened with dried blood. A bear-shaped squeeze bottle, filled with some glistening yellow liquid. When he set it down, Dipper made a lunge for it.

“No you don't!” Stan pulled away the bottle. “What is this stuff?”

“No-nothing.”

“Then you won't mind if I throw it away.” Stan headed for the biological waste bin in the corner of the room.

“No! Okay, okay, it's—it's happiness.” The way Dipper looked at the bottle reminded Stan uncomfortably of his old friend Molly E., right before she had OD'd at a New York house party.

“Look kid, I've seen it all. Heroin. Cocaine. Opium. If you can snort it, smoke it, or shoot it, I've done it. But I saw where that path leads, and it goes straight off a cliff. I'm clean now, and I've been clean for twenty years. Now, I don't know what kind of crazy magic dope this is, but we're going to work through it. Together.” After that uncharacteristically feel-good speech, the last thing he expected was for Dipper to start laughing, a low sound, without any mirth.

“Grunkle Stan, don't you think I know that already? I watched Requiem for a Dream.” Dipper flicked the IV line attached to the wrist. “They have me on morphine, right? Or close enough. But it doesn't even compare. Orgasmium is what Bill called it. It's happiness. It's acing a math test, and getting a kiss from the girl you love, and—and touching yourself, all in one but better. I had one drop, one drop, that's it. And I could never live the same way again.” Tears oozed from the corner of his eyes, and soaked into the hospital sheets. “Do you know how much pain you're in right now? How much being alive hurts?”

“I'm sorry Dipper.” Stan opened up the hazardous waste bin and tossed the bottle inside.

“No!” As injured as he was, Dipper sat up and made for towards the bin, heedless of the way the drips pulled out of his veins.

“Nurse, we've got a runner!” Stan yelled into the hallway. Two burly nurses who looked like they had been stealing steroids barged in and held down the struggling boy.

“This is the way it has to be. You'll thank me for it later.” Stan picked up the bin and walked outside, searching for the incinerator. He could still hear the boy screaming, even after Mabel ran inside to comfort him.

“Please! Don't take my sunshine away!”


	5. Hoist By His Own Petard

“Oh, it's you, Pine Tree. You look like you've seen better days.” The kid's nose was still bleeding, producing the “ink” with which Bill's summoning circle was drawn. A white bandage wrapped his shoulder, a leftover from the manticore incident. “Haven't heard from you in a while. How's tricks?”

“I haven't been able to call. They've been watching me day and night. I can't even go to the bathroom alone.” The dream demon glanced around Six Finger's old room, where the Pines family had seen fit to lock away the kid. All the furniture had been removed, and carpet had been stapled to the walls to make a makeshift padded room. “But Mabel finally slipped up.” The boy's sister, Shooting Star, was dozing on a bed of paper and crayons, bags under her eyes.

“So, whatdya want?” Bill examined his fingernails.

“You know what I want.”

“Well, well, well. Someone's looking desperate. But you're in no condition to be running errands for me.”

“Please, Bill, there has to be something you want. A tooth? I have lots of teeth.”

“Nah, those are just party favors.”

“Isn't there anything I can do?” Bill liked the way his voice cracked with desperation.

“There is one thing. A trifle, really. You humans give it away all the time.”

“What is it?”

“Your virginity.”

“What?”

“Yeah, so it turns out for some reason, the first sexual intercourse of a human releases a lot of magical energy. I don't get it either. But, there's no way to store that energy. I'd have to use it immediately.” As much as he hated to admit it, Bill's power set made him more suited to espionage than combat. But the boost from deflowering a virgin would be enough let him take on at least another mid-ranked demon. “I could pay my cousin Tad a visit. He owes me half a grand from poker.”

“So you'll do it?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

“Okay.” Pine Tree breathed in and out, filling his skinny chest with air. “I can do this.” He pulled his shirt off his head, and was shedding his pants when he came to a realization. “Uhh, how is this supposed to work? You're literally a two-dimensional triangle.” In response, Bill cracked open a layer of bricks, extruding out some of the raw nightmare tar that filled his interdimensional guts.

“Tentacles. It had to be tentacles. Let's get this over with.” Bill floated down to the kid's level and started caressing his body with his appendages. The boy shivered at the cold touch. “Just lie back and think of the President,” he muttered.

Bill slid a tentacle down the boy's front and to the cleft between his legs. The boy's anus clenched at the feel of the slimy appendage.

“Relax kid.” Bill placed on of his black hands on the kid's chest, feeling his panicked breath. Tears were beading in his eyes. “Pretend I'm that red-haired Ice Bag you like so much.”

“Wendy doesn't have tentacles!” the kid wailed.

“Are you so sure about that?”

“What.” The question distracted Pine Tree just enough for Bill to slip inside. The dream demon squirmed inside of the human's waste chute. Hmm, warm.

“Are we done yet?” the kid asked. “I'm not a virgin anymore, right?”

“Not quite. In response to widespread pressure from non-binary-gendered beings, the Interdimensional Council decreed that the definition of sex would be 'two or more organisms causing one or more orgasms.' And my kind reproduces asexually, so I don't have the ability to orgasm. It's all up to you, kid!”

“Uhrg.” The boy's hand reached for his genitals, and gave a couple of half-hearted strokes. “I can't do it. You're too cold.”

“How's this?” Bill lit up his hand with blue fire and waved it at Pine Tree. The boy batted away the flames.

“No! Can't you at least try to be sexy? Like, I don't know, turn into some hot blond dude with one eye or something.”

“You're the one who's begging me. Why should I invest the effort into making a human-sona?”

“Okay, fine, just, just give me a minute.” Pine Tree pushed the demon away and scraped some of the black slime into his hand. He used it as lubrication for stroking his hands up and down his shaft. His prick was gaining a little tumescence, Bill noted.

“I have to be involved,” Bill said. “Otherwise it's just masturbation, which releases hardly any energy at all.”

“Do you have a mouth?”

“You're looking at it, kid.”

“Put those tentacles back. All of them except for one.” Bill obeyed, wondered where this was going.

“Now get closer to my mouth.” Bill hovered right up to Pine Tree's face. The boy pressed his mouth to Bill's face and slid his tongue into the tentacular void. The warm human flesh tickled Bill's insides. Bill wriggled his own tentacle inside the boy's mouth, and the boy moaned and stroked faster.

They kissed in such a manner for a couple of minutes. Bill was starting to get a little bored. He idly started playing around with Pine Tree's hair, arranging the microorganisms living on his skin into interesting patterns. The boy seemed to enjoy having his scalp touched, breathing a little harder when the dream demon trailed his fingers around his ears and down to his neck. Bill pressed his fingers against the boy's pulse, feeling the blood run so close under the skin. If he tightened his grip, he could snap Pine Tree's neck so easily. That thought was quite tantalizing. A string of black drool oozed down Bill's corner.

Pine Tree was stroking faster and faster. He whimpered as Bill ran a finger down his jutting collarbone and finally spilled all over his hand. Waves of energy flooded into Bill in sync with the spurts of salty liquid.

“Yeowza! Hit the jackpot!” Bill's eye rolled in his face like a slot machine.

“What about me?”

“Here's the booby prize.” Bill absentmindedly extruded a clot of Orgasmium into Dipper's hand, as he wreathed his body in blue flames. This should be enough to disintegrate that Tad Strange into vapor. “I'm on top of the universe, baby! Feels great!”

“You know, you could feel a lot better.” And the boy flicked his finger, lobbing a drop of golden liquid onto Bill's body.

“Oh no. What did you--” Bill's pupil contracted, then dilated to fill his entire eye. He felt … like he had conquered the Earth and lay waste to its inhabitants. He was being worshiped by every being in the known universe, and countless beings in unknown universes. He could see everything, past, present, and future. He was immortal. He was invincible. He was a god. All the ephemeral energy in his body burnt off in a maelstrom of flame, bathing the room in an explosion of light.

As quickly as the sublime sensation had come over him, it left. Bill floated in the room, staring at nothing in particular. What was he doing on this insignificant planet, squabbling for drips and drops of magic? He would never be able to capture that much power, even if he spent his entire immortal life trying. The demon hugged his skinny, useless arms to himself.

“Don't you miss it already?” said Pine Tree with an enormous grin, smearing the yellow gel into his cheeks. “You know where to get more.”

Bill opened a portal, larger than he had ever dared before, into the plane of euphoria. The glistening gold ocean lapped against a beach of bleached bones. Swimming in the golden liquid were the dark specs of corpses, trapped in the Orgasmium like flies in amber. Some of the corpses were even moving.

“What are you waiting for? Let's go.” The boy took the demon's hand, and they fell into the ocean.

And they lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I made Florida into Hell. Now I want to illustrate some postcards.
> 
> I will admit that the last sentence of this story was lifted directly from Three Worlds Collide, a story by Eliezer Yudkowsky: http://lesswrong.com/lw/y4/three_worlds_collide_08/ He does a much better job delving into the deeper ethical and sociological implications of a pleasurable state of existence. I just wanted to write something fucked up.
> 
> As usual, comment if you care.

**Author's Note:**

> The name and concept of Orgasmium comes from here: http://wiki.lesswrong.com/wiki/Orgasmium
> 
> This story gon' be dark as fuck, just saying. But with a first chapter like this, you should expect that, right?
> 
> Now with fanart: http://dirksnipples-art.tumblr.com/post/131125386042/inktober-day-3-this-is-based-off-of-a-strange-ye


End file.
